Where We Live
by Alanis1
Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or will she face her past and heal old wounds?
1. The Great War

Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or will she face her past and heal old wounds?  
  
Disclaimer: Although I am obsessed with Harry Potter and Co., I do not own them. Although I wish I could have just one pay check from JK Rowling, I don't get any money from them. I promise to be nice and play gently with them, since they are not mine.   
  
Where We Live  
Prologue  
  
The ash stung her eyes and burned her nose. The ruins of what was once one of the most treasured alley in Britain, Diagon Alley, smoldered around her. She stumbled on the cobble street, blood, and sweat dripping from her. "Harry...Ron, where are you?" she choked. The futility of her search never entered her mind, she knew she would find them, and together, they would make their peace with this god forsaken war.   
  
Lifeless bodies slumped against the ruins, while others, lay amongst the rubble. Blood stained the ground, turning the ash into a black tar. The heat and light from the fires barely made any impact through the thickness of the dust, ash, and soot filling the air. Her lungs, on fire from the debris she was inhaling, felt like they were closing, not allowing her to breathe. "Please, Harry, answer me...I need you," she cried. "I need you." She continued to stagger in one direction, praying, that someone would find her or she would find them. The pain from her wounds, just now beginning to make itself known, was hindering her ability to think straight. Knowing that she needed to heal the wounds, but not being able to do so, as she had no way of cleansing them, gave her the incentive to continue until she found safe shelter. She would not let those bastards kill her too. They had killed too many innocents. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. No, they would not kill Hermione Granger; she was too stubborn for that.   
  
She dragged herself through the war zone, blood and sweat drenching her, allowing the ash to stick to her body, searching for a familiar sight. The alley, or what was left of it, was deserted. She could hear the faint moaning of the dead and injured, smell the acrid stench of burning flesh. She knew that the war was over, what she didn't know was whether or not the plan had succeeded.   
  
She continued to wander in what she hoped was the direction of safety, if there was such a thing, not knowing what or who was waiting for her past the thickness of the air. Her head was becoming light and her breathing more difficult, as she continued to stumble in search of help. Her vision cloudy from tears and ash, she didn't see the figure staggering in her direction.  
  
"Miss Granger..." she thought that she heard her name, but knew that it was too much to hope for. She had given up on hope, there was no hope, if there were, she and her friends wouldn't have been dragged into this damn war. They were only seventeen, for Christ sakes. Seventeen. Teenagers. They had no business in war. They should have been planning their graduation, worried only about who would dance with whom at the next ball, NOT who was going to cover whose backs in war, or how to defend yourself against the Unforgivables. No, there was no hope, no real future, because she was damaged goods.   
  
"Miss Granger..." she swore she was hearing things. The ash and dust was so thick, her eyes burned, she could not see the figure heading her way.   
  
"Miss Granger, is that you?" the voice asked, thick with emotion and smoke. The figure continued to stumble in her direction, clearly wounded and barely maintaining a semi-stable gait.   
  
"Professor? Oh God, Professor Snape, is that you?" she choked, hardly believing that he of all people survived this damned attack. She tried to rush towards him, tripping on the debris that covered the ground. "Professor, where is everyone?" 


	2. Hermione's Decision

Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to   
  
Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or   
  
will she face her past and heal old wounds?  
  
Disclaimer: Although I am obsessed with Harry Potter and Co., I do not own them.   
  
Although I wish I could have just one paycheck from JK Rowling, I don't get any   
  
money from them. I promise to be nice and play gently with them, since they are   
  
not mine.   
  
Where We Live  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The days following the defeat of Voldemort were the most bleak Hermione could   
  
remember. The effects of the plan were discussed in lengthy detail. It was   
  
unknown as to how the culmination of the war was going to affect the wizarding   
  
world, as many of its prominent citizens were either dead or in Azkaban.   
  
Hermione was only able to attend a few of these briefings, learning of the   
  
incidents, which led to the deaths of so many renowned witches and wizards. It   
  
was such a simple idea, planned to perfection. The target was to kill Voldemort,   
  
which they, actually Harry, had succeeded in doing. Getting to Voldemort was the   
  
most difficult, as he was well protected by the inner circle of Death Eaters.   
  
Voldemort had planned to take his attacks into an all out war. He and his Death   
  
Eaters attacked Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, and Canterbury at the   
  
same time. The wizarding world did not know what hit them. Had it not been for   
  
Severus Snape, they would have been caught unawares. Wizarding teams made up of   
  
some of the most powerful men and women in the wizarding community were   
  
dispatched to each of these towns in order to minimize the damage that was being   
  
wrought. Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonogall, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin,   
  
Severus Snape, and Harry Potter were tagged to go directly after Voldemort.   
  
Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and other students and teachers from Hogwarts   
  
were to "take care of" the Death Eater's reeking havoc in Diagon Alley. The   
  
battles were gloriously and heroically fought, and although Hermione was still   
  
in disbelief of everything that had occurred, she was honored to have fought   
  
with the best.  
  
The final count of the number of witches and wizards lost was still being   
  
compiled. It wasn't just the illustrious Order of the Phoenix, who fought, but   
  
civilians; moms, dads, shop keepers, students. It was the most amazing, yet   
  
unbelievable thing she had ever witnessed. It still felt unreal. The war, while   
  
she had been a part of it, was now feeling like a bad dream. She was living a   
  
bad dream.   
  
Days later, she could barely remember her words to Professor Snape that night.   
  
"Professor, where is everyone?" He didn't answer her. He caught her as she   
  
tripped, asked her if she could walk, and together they stumbled into what was   
  
once Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Once inside, they tried to heal their   
  
less serious wounds, using water from the kitchen to clean them. Neither one   
  
spoke, as they did not want to give away their position, just in case. When he   
  
asked her whether or not she would be able to apparate, she had barely heard   
  
him. Thankfully, the Ministry approved apparition lessons for everyone over the   
  
age of sixteen. They apparated to Hogwarts. At that moment in time, she couldn't   
  
have been more elated at the sight, and that was saying something.   
  
At Hogwarts, Hermione was treated by Madam Pomfrey and kept in the infirmary   
  
until she nearly went mindless with despair. She had learned from Professor   
  
Snape, that everyone she loved was lost. She learned that Harry had to sacrifice   
  
himself in order to kill Voldemort, and Ron had died by jumping in front of a   
  
curse meant for Ginny. After Ron died, they killed Ginny anyway. Hermione still   
  
hadn't figured out how she escaped. She knew that the plan had been carried out   
  
flawlessly. The plan...the fucking plan. If it was so perfect, how in the hell   
  
did everyone die? Everyone but her. He told her that she was a hero. A fucking   
  
hero. Well, she didn't feel like one. Hero's didn't cry, and it seemed that she   
  
couldn't stop.  
  
It seemed that he understood her, though. On some basic level, when she screamed   
  
and cursed and threw things, he knew where she was coming from. He had held her   
  
during her most violent crying spells and soothed her in hushed tones. He   
  
listened while she spoke about how much she missed Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She   
  
thought he understood when she spoke of her guilt for living while they and many   
  
more died. He knew how it felt when the world was celebrating while you were   
  
crying, isolated in your own personal hell, that you can't escape. He felt it,   
  
too.   
  
All she knew was that she lost everyone. It was hard to feel pleased when so   
  
many were dead. There was nothing for her anymore. The know-it-all of Gryffindor   
  
felt like she didn't know anything. Not anything important. She knew books,   
  
hell, she could recite from heart the uses for monkshood or aconite, but she   
  
didn't know how to live after a war. She didn't know and didn't care about the   
  
niceties of heroism. She knew that all of her friends were dead. Dead. Not   
  
coming back. Harry, whose courage and strength she constantly marveled at, and   
  
Ron, whose loyalty and daring was unmatched. Her best friends, her brothers.   
  
Dead. And countless others, Ginny, her best girlfriend, the only one she could   
  
share her secret crushes with, Neville, Seamus, Lavender, McGonagall, Vector,   
  
Sprout, Flintwick. The list goes on and on. All dead. And in her head, all she   
  
could think of was how in the hell did she make it out alive.   
  
She had to get out of there. She couldn't take it. She knew that she would never   
  
be left alone. After all, she was a fucking hero now. She wasn't sure where she   
  
would go; her parents had been killed by Death Eater's last summer in a ploy to   
  
get at her and more importantly Harry through her. She just wanted to get away,   
  
to never come back. To be drowned in a river of anonymity. The only way was to   
  
become a muggle. It was, in fact, a brilliant option, one that offered her   
  
everything she wanted.   
  
It wasn't a difficult decision to make, once she thought about it. She had   
  
plenty of money and a house. She could sell it and buy a cottage in the country.   
  
She could read and garden all day long, maybe teach at a local school. She could   
  
go to university and do something with her life besides cry and curse. But she   
  
needed help, and knew that there was only one person she could trust to help   
  
her.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The walk to the dungeons never felt so long. She shivered and pulled her cloak   
  
more closely around her. She couldn't figure out if it was the drop in   
  
temperature or her nervousness that made her tremble. She knew that if she   
  
didn't ask for his help, that she wouldn't be able to make the change. It was   
  
now or never.  
  
The large oak doors at the entrance of the room, stood tall and proud, as   
  
intimidating as the man inside. She raised her hand and knocked swiftly before   
  
she changed her mind.   
  
"Come in," the voice inside barked. She guessed that he was not in a good mood,   
  
but figured that he probably never sounded cheerful when he was being   
  
interrupted. She slowly opened the door, peeking her head inside.  
  
"Professor, I...I need to speak with you, if you have a moment," she stammered.   
  
Damn, she didn't know why she was so nervous; he had seen her at her worst. He   
  
looked up expectantly and she continued. "Professor, I was thinking...I would   
  
like to move away from here. I think, no, I am going to move back to the muggle   
  
world. There is nothing here for me anymore, and I can't take the constant   
  
reminders of what once was. I can't live in the shadow of my former self.   
  
I...I'll go crazy." She rushed through it before she could stop herself to   
  
thing.  
  
"You've made this decision already?" he asked.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"What do you need from me?" He asked.   
  
What she wanted from him, she was sure that she wasn't going to get. She seldom   
  
received any kind of praise or encouragement from this man, but somehow, deep   
  
inside, she knew she needed to please him. She needed his blessing. It was all   
  
she had to take with her. "Please sir, I just need to know that, that I am   
  
making the right decision."   
  
"Indeed. Miss Granger, Hermione...it's time you do what you think is right. You   
  
are not a child anymore. You have fought in a great war; you are the lone   
  
survivor of your house. This is your decision to make. Not anybody else's, and   
  
certainly not mine. Yours. I will assist if I can."  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said. In that little speech, he had empowered her to do   
  
what she knew she needed to without the guilt of being a heroine and leaving the   
  
wizarding world. She knew in her heart of hearts that once she said goodbye, she   
  
was not coming back. As she pulled the door closed, she stopped, looked at   
  
Professor Snape and said, "Goodbye, Severus." She gently closed the door, and   
  
walked back to the tower, with tears silently rolling down her face. 


	3. Chapel of Life

Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or will she face her past and heal old wounds?

Disclaimer: Although I am obsessed with Harry Potter and Co., I do not own them. Although I wish I could have just one pay check from JK Rowling, I don't get any money from them. I promise to be nice and play gently with them, since they are not mine. 

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. I really appreciate you taking the time to read my story. I hope it doesn't move to slowly for you. The first several chapters will be close introspection by Hermione and Severus (in chapter 4). 

Where We Live

Chapter 3

She had passed this chapel on her way to her cottage everyday for a year, and everyday she promised herself that she would stop and look. Day after day, she made excuses for why she shouldn't, couldn't do it. She certainly didn't believe in God, because no God could allow the evil that she had seen, that she had fought, to exist. No, she didn't want to become associated to an ideal that seemed so simplistic and emotional. So everyday, she would pass it by, admiring the unrefined building, telling herself that she didn't deal in emotion, but in facts, and the facts told her that this building could do nothing for her. 

She was curious, though. It wasn't beautiful to the outside world. It was plain, with small stained glass windows depicting the suffering Christ, but it touched her deep within her soul, calling out to her, laying claim on her desperation. When she first entered this place, she knew that she was home. This place, this was her Eden. This was where she belonged, with its ebony pews and time worn books and Bibles; its candle lit alter and agony stricken Jesus on the Crucifix. Suffering was something she could relate to. But she didn't feel the pain in this place; she could become Hermione again, without the sadness, guilt and worry that had plagued her for so long. Its stillness had been the first thing to captivate her, then its innate beauty. Thoughts of what she had become melted away as she knelt and prayed to this god or to any that would hear her, to make her whole again. 

__

"Miss Granger, Hermione...it's time you do what you think is right. You are not a child anymore. You have fought in a great war; you are the lone survivor of your house. This is your decision to make. Not anybody else's, and certainly not mine. Yours." Those words were never far from her mind as she remembered the certainty of her decision. If she had remained in the wizarding world, she would have been hounded, asked to relive the nightmare over and over again, receiving no compassion for her torment. She would have been forced to stand by and play the role of heroine, placate to the crowd, celebrate, when she felt no desire, had no strength to do anything but cry. The ache was too fresh, carried so deeply within her, that participating in a charade of cheer would have destroyed her. She was reminded of what she had read from the books about the soldiers returning from World War II after they liberated the Jews. They were numb, shocked by what they had seen and been through, that when it was finally over, and celebrations spread through the world, they could only stand and stare, reliving each battle, trauma, nightmare that they had faced. No, she needed to be away from there, she couldn't stand to be an observer in what was supposed to be her life. She knew now that she had done the right thing. She was surviving and doing it the best way she knew. She was getting her life back slowly, putting the memories of her past behind her. She was a woman of her own volition now, not the girl forced into adulthood by the atrocities of war. 

Coming to the chapel, the Chapel of Incarnation, the Chapel of Life, became a daily custom for her. She found that she was usually the only visitor and felt this chapel was built just for her, to suit her needs, and provide for her nourishment. It was the only time she could rest, as sleep was never easy and she didn't believe in idleness. Yes, she was going to be okay; she would get better. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wind was becoming more fierce as autumn neared, changing the temperature from the mild heat of summer to the damp coolness of fall. Living near the sea had always been a dream for Hermione, and she jumped at the chance to purchase this small cottage near Brighton. It was everything she had imagined; she had the privacy and tranquility that she desired. It was perfect.

Setting her bag on the table, she hastily prepared a sandwich and tea and settled into her reading chair with her favorite periodical Neos Emfytos Chimeia, which had very interesting articles on how the human body reacts under the influence of powerful natural stimulants. It was her one tie back to the wizarding world and her secret favorite subject, Potions. She had begun her university study at University of Brighton and was studying Biomolecular Chemistry. It was enough to keep her busy most nights and keep her thoughts occupied with constructive endeavors. 

Silence was the most welcome, but also most frightening attribute of living in the country. It had taken months for her to welcome the combination of dark and peace. It reminded her too much of the last battle, where the air had been so thick with ash and dust that she felt like she were blind, and the silence of it all had been unnerving. The silence on that day had been deafening. She had needed to play music on a constant basis, so that she would know that she was indeed not deaf at all. But she had come to love the peace and the anonymity of the night. It sheltered her from herself, the dark wrapping her in a quilt of security. 


	4. Echoes

Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or will she face her past and heal old wounds?  
  
Disclaimer: Although I am obsessed with Harry Potter and Co., I do not own them. Although I wish I could have just one pay check from JK Rowling, I don't get any money from them. I promise to be nice and play gently with them, since they are not mine.   
  
A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. I really appreciate you taking the time to read my story. I hope it doesn't move to slowly for you. The first several chapters will be close introspection by Hermione and Severus (in chapter 4).   
  
Where We Live  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The life of a war hero is not all it's cracked up to be. There has been no chance, no moment, to gather thoughts, to pay respects, to mourn for those who were lost. The days and nights haunted him in the same way, as there was no refuge from the past. When expectations of the world weigh upon shoulders too narrow. When it is felt that this war, this goddamned war, stripped all who survived of dignity, trust, and lives. Placed upon a pedastal, to be worshipped and adored by all, trapped in the moment of heroics that were merely a means of survival.   
  
He was never a good man, never one to follow the rules of the greater good. He envied her and he hated her for it. She escaped. Probably the only one of the surviving who was able to. He imagined that she was no longer haunted by the ghosts of the past.  
  
It was unfair to expect her to stay. For what. For adulation that grinds at the soul, for adoration that is unwarranted and most of all unwanted. The bright witch, the young witch, who in all honesty, is young only in age, never seemed to escape his thoughts. The last words he said to her as he sent her on her way, echo relentlessly in his mind; it's time you do what you think is right. The decision was hers alone to make, and any input he had in the situation was not his to share. The notion of envy ate at him because she had what he wanted, she can put the pieces of her life back together in solitude.   
  
Thoughts of Hermione are never far. Of those nights when she cried tears he could never shed. Of holding her while the violent waves of rage and suffering crashed, leaving only the shell of the girl he had known for seven years. The strength she possessed to make her choice and the desire to not let her go weigh heavily on his mind. She saw that the brave hero was frightened, and she was the only one who saw past this facade.  
  
A puzzle is what is left of this life. There are too many pieces, to many odd shapes to put it back together. Too many that can't be recognized and too many missing. What would people say, if they knew their fearsome potions master is scared to turn out the lights. What would they say if they knew their heroic warrior was afraid. What would they say if they knew that the one thing that helped him to survive is gone.   
  
Loneliness engulfs this pathetic man. It's nothing new. An emotional connection to anyone, except for Albus, seemed impossible for the villiafied potions master. An unihabitable island. Rough and desolate. But thoughts of her plague his brain. For the moments of consolation and peace, knowing that she shared the feelings of anger, fear, and suffering, and that he was not alone. That he was not the only one who lost everything.   
  
The words, it's time you do what you think is right, echo in his mind, because it was clear what he must do. The uncertainty of this mission fills his soul with distress. The fear of rejection compouds the feelings of loneliness. 


	5. Solitude and Serenity

Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or will she face her past and heal old wounds?  
  
Disclaimer: Although I am obsessed with Harry Potter and Co., I do not own them. Although I wish I could have just one pay check from JK Rowling, I don't get any money from them. I promise to be nice and play gently with them, since they are not mine.   
  
Where We Live  
  
Chapter 5- Silence and Serenity  
  
He knew that he would never find peace. It had always eluded him. And as far as he was concerned, he was undeserving. He had too much to compensate for and would never accept any recompese, material or otherwise for the role he played. It was his penance for all the wrong he had done. It was a penance that would never fully be paid. He knew he was spending too much time dwelling on the last several months. It seemed as if time was standing still. The days dragged on, with one appearance, interview, staffing after another. It was all he could do to keep from retreating back into his bed chambers and never to come out again. How were they supposed to move on, when the world ignored the suffering of its heros? How were the wounds supposed to heal when they were ripped open day after day after day? It seemed that as each day passed, he envied her even more. How he wished he had the strength to leave this place behind. He was glad for her sake that she was able to escape. He knew that continuous prodding at her frail psyche would cause disasterous results. He wanted to ask her to stay but was releived when she made her choice. He knew that she would not have survived long in this climate.   
  
It seemed that a day did not pass without thoughts of her plaguing his brain. He could still see the quiet resolution in her eyes and in the manner she held herself. She was leaving and not returning. She lost everything and everyone. There was nothing left for her. Nothing that she could see.  
  
To entertain notions that maybe he should pay her a visit, seemed crazy. At times, it felt like he was going out of his mind. That the idea of her wanting anything to do with him was just absurd. His mind had a way of playing tricks on him. He had imagined that she needed him. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He hoped that she was faring well. He hoped that she was able to gather the shards of her life and piece them together. He had hoped that she was having an easier time than he was.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She loved to take walks in the morning. They helped her to process her dreams. Most of the time she woke three or four times in the night, either in tears or in a cold sweat. Since the war, sleep had not come easy. And if she could, she would do without.   
  
After she had made her decision to leave the wizarding world, she felt relief. She knew it would not be easy to recover. She knew that couldn't have survived with the celebrity of being a heroine. Especially when she felt like a coward. She didn't survive. She just didn't die. Not the way everyone else did. Not the way she wished she would have. Death would have been easy. Living was the hardest thing she had ever done and some days she just didn't want to. She cursed under her breath. She hated that there were days when she thought she would be okay just to realize that she wasn't sure if she would ever be okay again.   
  
It was days like these, that she found herself in her chapel. She could sit for hours in silence. She could sit for hours just so that she didn't have to think, to relive the gruesome end that had met her best friends. It was in this place that she could think about him and feel something other than the excruciating torment that seemed to shadow her everywhere she went. She could remember feeling safe in his arms. She could remember feeling accepted and strengthend. And most importantly she remembered feeling that she was normal.  
  
She often wondered if she should contact him. She imagined that he was probably handeling himself better than she. She often imagined that he was still teaching, still inflicting his wrath on the school children. She laughed when she thought "school children". Wasn't it three months ago that she and her friends were a seventh years? She wasn't ready to return. She didn't know if she would ever be able to. The pain was too fresh. The pain was too deep.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
He apparated into a field. He could smell the saltiness of the ocean and feel the damp coolness of the air through his robes. As he walked, he noticed a modest chapel in the distance. Drawn by its simplicity, he felt compelled to visit. Nearing the chapel, he noticed the small sign that hung above the door read Chapel of Life. 


End file.
